Fresh Meat Fresh Out
by Nicholas de Vilance
Summary: //Deuces Wild// Jimmy goes to pick up Marco, but Marco's pretty pissed off...and scary...and violent...//COULD be slash if you looked really closely!//


Nicholas: I meant this to be a slash fic between Marco and Jimmy Pockets (I haven't seen it yet, what can I say), but it turned out to be more along the lines of corporal punishment, but not really. I had the whole "show you what they did to me in prison" thing worked out in my head and if I had written it that way, this would be...very, VERY distasteful to popular audiences. So I tried to make it lighter slash, but that didn't work out too well, so I just ended up with this. Meaning: Marco's pissed off, sarcastic, and sadistic, and Jimmy is idiotic, obedient, and freaked out...yeah that about covers it. Wanted to say during this scene that I extended: "Nice to see you too, Jack Ass," but I wouldn't do that A.) Norman Reedus is adorable even as a bad guy, B.) Adorable he may be, but he's also fucking intimidating as Marco Vindetti.

Disclaimer: Don't own...runs into corner and cries

Rating: M...LANGUAGE!...angstiness...sadistic Marco!

* * *

"You know how long I been waitin' here?"

Jimmy Pockets did not expect that to be the first thing out of Marco's mouth after three years in prison. He sounded so pissed off, Jimmy was afraid to even take those two more steps closer to him. That was fine because Marco went up to him. "I don't know, fifteen minutes?" His face was no more than an inch away every ounce of fury Marco had in him.

"I been waitin' three years and fifteen minutes, get the _fuck_ in the car!"

It was like a brush with death when Marco swiped his shoulder walking past him. Jimmy hid his shudder as he picked up Marco's relatively light suitcase and tossed it in the back seat. Once he'd gotten in the car, he reached back behind the seat and produced a nice, cold beer he'd got for Marco just before he'd left to pick him up. "Here's your beer," he stated, catching the other's attention.

For a moment Marco looked like he was about to say thank you, but that ended quickly. As he searched for the bottle opener he knew was somewhere near the dash, he spoke again. "You take car of them Deuces?"

"Yeah, we fought them."

Marco took a long drink—like he'd never get to drink again—and then just stared at Jimmy. Something in his face was different from three years ago. It was like a scar that wasn't really there—wasn't really physical. Yeah, Jimmy was distracted by another guy's face…fuck off. "You gonna tell me what happened, or do I gotta read your fucken mind?"

"Hey, it went down just like you said, we were destroying them and then, outta nowhere, Leon shows up and…it gets bad…" That look was not promising in the least.

Shock mixed with skepticism and disappointment. "You telling me one guy took on our whole crew?" It was here the Jimmy Pockets would try to defend himself and the fact that he'd also gotten his ass kicked by Leon, but Marco wasn't having it. "Shut up! God damned…do I gotta do everything myself?" He took a deep breath so as not to murder Jimmy in broad daylight and thus get thrown straight back in jail. "Where is he?"

"How should I know?" That was obviously not an adequate reply. "Ask father Aldo, he's gonna make him a saint."

There was the first smile to grace Marco's face in the light of day out of prison. "Jesus don't listen to snitches." Jimmy stopped laughing as soon as Marco put a hand on his neck and pulled him over the seat so that their faces were almost touching. "From now on I want you to tell me every fucken move he makes, you understand me?"

That was not one of the things Jimmy Pockets would usually dignify with a response, so he just nodded timidly and bit back a retort as Marco pushed his head back like they were playing table tennis with everything attached to his neck. "It's good to see you, Marco," he stated quietly.

He started the car and they were off down the street with the radio blaring and Marco occasionally tapping his fingers to the music. It was the only thing that there was anything left of a soul in Marco's body—his appreciation of music. Jimmy knew it sounded corny, but he had a theory that the only reason Marco trusted him so much is because they had a similar taste in music. If it weren't for that, Jimmy was sure Marco would realize how much of an idiot he's hanging around with and just say "fuck you" and walk away.

"Make a left up here," Marco said indifferently, confident he'd be obeyed. "I want to explore the streets I missed so much and see if it was worth three years of waiting to be back on them."

"So, uh…You glad to be out?"

That look…that look that made Jimmy feel like his brain had just been ripped out of his skull and thrown to the concrete and stepped on. Oh, how venomously sarcastic Marco could be without saying a word. He would eventually say something, though, and Jimmy wished he had a bomb shelter prepared for things like that. "No, Jimmy," he snapped harshly, "I liked it in there. I liked being the piece a shit people would just as soon step on, 'cause you know what? That's exactly what guys like you or me are in there."

First time Marco had ever really put Jimmy and himself on a relatively equal level of comparison. Jimmy was never quite sure why he kept track of these things. Maybe it was just so that he could look back on it whenever he wanted to feel better about himself. "Sorry, I'm just tryin' to make conversation."

"Yeah, you're failing. Shut the fuck up and turn right."

"Now?"

"Now!"

They went down an alley, but Marco was calling the shots and he seemed to know what he was doing, so that was good. Jimmy instinctively slowed down when the alley turned dark, and then it abruptly ended so he had to stop. "Where are we now?"

"Doesn't matter," Marco stated, finishing off his beer and tossing the bottle carelessly to the ground. He opened his door and grabbed Jimmy by the collar before yanking him out of the car roughly. "Get up! You wanna know some a the things they did to me in jail? Here you go. Stand up straight!"

Jimmy found his footing in the narrow alley and did his best to stand straight up because Marco sounded like he was in one of those moods. "What the fuck, Marco?"

"Shut up and hit me." He stood a couple of feet away from Jimmy with his fists raised half way in a sloppy fighting stance. Jimmy, of course, just stood there staring at him like he had blood running out of his eyes. "What the fuck're you waiting for? Hit me. What? You need a fucken invitation?"

"Why—?"

Without warning, Marco socked him in the face—it hurt a hell of a lot worse than it would have three years ago. Prison-roughened knuckles slammed into Jimmy's jaw, sending the poor guy spinning and hitting the ground harshly. "Because I fucken said so, that's why, now get up!" He waited a moment before hoisting Jimmy to his feet again. "Hit me."

Jimmy held his throbbing jaw for a moment and stared at Marco with wide eyes. "Fine." He took a deep breath and aimed a cuff at Marco's nose. Marco scarcely took a step back from the blow.

"Jesus, no wonder Leon could take our entire crew," he began, shoving Jimmy back roughly. He barely seemed to notice that he'd been struck at all. "You punch like your fucken sister! How far did you guys fall when I was in the can?"

"I don't know, Marco," Jimmy said, once more rubbing his jaw. It probably would have been better if he just hadn't said anything.

Marco pushed the weaker man against the wall, an arm pushing into his throat and the other gripping Jimmy's waist. Jimmy didn't really start to freak out and struggle until Marco dipped his head down and bite him hard on the neck just below his ear. He tried to shout, tell him to stop, but the moment a sound came out of his mouth, Marco's hand covered it up. Jimmy's hands did nothing against Marco's chest as it pushed against him. The only thought on his mind at the time was, "What the fuck?"

And all of the sudden, Marco let up on the bite and Jimmy was relieved of the pain in his neck. "Know how long it'll take for this bruise to go away?" Of course, Jimmy could say nothing because of the hand over his mouth. "You better make friends with it, or steal Annie's make-up." And then he let go and went back towards the car, leaving Jimmy both hurt and slightly horrified.

Apparently he was still staring at Marco because just before the man opened the passenger-side door, he looked again at Jimmy. "Want to take a fucken picture? Get a camera and I'll model for you." Oh, that painful sarcasm, but Jimmy still didn't move. "Yo, did I cut off the use of your brain? Wake up!"

Jimmy hadn't registered Marco walking back over to him until he was smacked across the face. "Ow, wh'the fuck?"

"Ah, see I knew there was somethin' left in there. Now get in the fucken car and take me to the club."


End file.
